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It’s been months since I’ve seen her in person, though that hasn’t stopped us from fighting through texts or over the phone.Every conversation we’ve had has been laced with resentment.I expected tension when we finally sat face-to-face, and I was right.It lingers between us, thick and unyielding, filling the silence of every unspoken word.

She offers a tight smile.“Thanks for meeting me.”

I nod."How’ve you been?"

“I’m doing well.”Her voice is steady, confident.

And looking at her now, I almost believe it.

We may be twins, but in my eyes, she’s always been my little sister.The one who needed protecting, the one I had to keep safe.But the woman sitting across from me isn’t the innocent little girl I remember.She’s composed.Self-assured.Controlled.

It should put me at ease.Instead, it unsettles me.

That’s all she says before a server approaches, setting a pint of Guinness down in front of me and another in front of Aoife.He follows it with a bowl of hearty Irish stew, the rich scent of beef and potatoes filling the air.

I glance at her, my brow raised.

She lifts her glass.“I ordered for us.”

I huff a quiet breath, shaking my head as I pick up my pint.“Thanks,” I mutter before taking a drink.

Aoife doesn’t say anything else before picking up her spoon, stirring the thick stew in front of her, and taking a bite.I follow suit, scooping up a spoonful, the rich, savory broth warming me from the inside.

For a few minutes, we eat in silence.The only sounds between us are the clink of metal against ceramic and the low murmur of conversation from the bar.It’s almost normal.Almost like we’re just two people sharing a meal instead of a brother and sister poised on opposite sides of a war.

Aoife shifts slightly, wrapping her hands around her glass.“How’s Bridget?”

“She’s fine.”

“And Saoirse?”she asks, looking up at me.

There’s no malice in her voice, no challenge in her expression.

“She’s good," I say after a moment."Growing too fast."

Aoife nods, fingers idly tracing the condensation on her glass.“I bet.”

I set my spoon down, refocusing.“Enough small talk.We need to talk about why you called me here.”

"Of course,” she says, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table.“Let’s talk."

I keep my voice level carefully measured."Cian seems to think you and he felt a connection while he was here."

Her lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile.“He was very charming”, she says lightly.

"I hope that opened your eyes to everything you could have.Everything you’ve been missing."

Aoife swirls her spoon through the last remnants of stew, then looks up."Maybe you’re right."

That stops me cold.I expected resistance.Some sarcastic jab or fire in her eyes.But there’s none of that.Just calm.Until she keeps talking.

“But if I come back, it’s on my terms.”

My brows draw together.“What terms?”

She doesn’t hesitate.“I want a seat at the table.I want a real place in the Syndicate.”

I exhale slowly.“You’re not ready for that.”